Ice and asphalt [Charles Leclerc]

48

After New Year's, everything settled back into its usual pace. I was back to training Celine and Leon, and even though Charles was still off racing, preparations for the new season had already started. Soon, he'd be heading off on his training trip to the Alps, and I'd have the apartment to myself again. I kept to my routine: taking my lithium and other meds, eating, heading to the rink to coach, then coming home for dinner with Charles. Then it was more meds and off to bed.

But lately, something felt different. It was as if the new year had brought a fresh energy, like I wasn't moving through water as thick as before. I was still on my medication, but there was something lighter in the way I moved through my day, and I liked it.

Usually, after practice with Celine and Leon, I'd be drained. Showing them a new line often meant getting on the ice myself, and by the time I got home, I'd barely have the energy to keep my eyes open, let alone stay up for anything else. But tonight, something feels different. I've just finished the dishes, and Charles is lacing up his running shoes for his usual evening jog. Surprisingly, I feel the urge to join him.

"Wait a minute, I'm coming with you," I say, pushing myself off the counter and heading to the bedroom to change.

"You sure you're not too tired?" Charles asks, eyebrows slightly raised with that look of gentle concern he sometimes gives me. He doesn't know about my bipolar disorder or my history with Éloise and the drugs, but he's been around long enough to notice how easily I tire. Of course, he doesn't know my lithium has a lot to do with that.

"Yeah, I feel good," I say, pulling on my running leggings and a long-sleeve zip-up. My running shoes are on before I know it, and I step back into the living room.

"I'm happy you're doing good," he says, wrapping an arm around me and kissing the top of my head. His smile is easy, genuine, and I can tell he likes seeing me with this spark.

He takes my hand as we head out the door and down the hall, his fingers warm and steady. The crisp evening air hits us as we step outside, and I take a deep breath, savoring it. We start at a light jog, my legs finding a rhythm I haven't felt in a long time. Charles glances over at me every so often, maybe checking that I'm keeping up, but I feel strong and steady.

The evening air feels cool and sharp as we jog side by side, our breaths forming small clouds in the night. I'm surprised at myself; normally, after a full day of training Celine and Leon, I'd be half-asleep by now. But tonight, I feel light, almost buzzing, like I could keep running forever.

Charles glances over, his eyebrows slightly raised, and there's something curious in his gaze—like he's trying to figure out what's different about me. I can sense the question in his eyes, though he doesn't say anything. After all, he's known me for most of our lives, through years of rivalry and tension, and he's seen me at my lowest. Yet he's never fully known why I am the way I am. He doesn't know about the bipolar diagnosis or the pills I take to keep myself steady. He doesn't know what that night in 2018 really meant—that it happened in the middle of a manic episode I couldn't control.

For now, it feels easier to keep things simple, to let him think I'm just in a good place.

"You're really in top form tonight," he says, grinning as we settle into an easy pace together. "Guess you're not as tired as usual."

"Yeah, I... I actually feel great." I smile, even as part of me wonders what's changed. It doesn't make sense—I've always needed my lithium to keep things balanced, and it usually leaves me worn out. But for the past week or so, I've felt this spark, this energy that reminds me of my old self, before the meds.

I push the thought aside, choosing to focus on the steady rhythm of our steps, the feel of the pavement beneath my feet. For now, I'm just grateful for this unexpected clarity, the feeling of being present.